One Year Later: Still Becoming
Welcome back, beautiful soul
Today marks one year since I was fired from my job—ending eight years with a place that had become familiar, comfortable, and quietly woven into my everyday existence.
At the time, I didn’t have language for what I was experiencing. I only knew the weight of it. The sudden absence of routine. The quiet shock of losing something that had shaped my days, my identity, my sense of stability. It felt like an ending I didn’t choose—a door closing while I was still standing in it.
Now, a year later, I’m sitting in a different kind of pause.
As I reflect and rest from being involved in a car accident this past Friday, everything feels even more layered. Life has a way of slowing you down when there are things your spirit needs to hear—things your body can no longer outrun. And truthfully, this entire season has come with back-to-back challenges and setbacks, one after another, asking me to move through life at a pace I didn’t choose.
My faith during this time felt like a tug of war. There were moments when I questioned everything, moments when trusting God felt heavy and unfamiliar. I wasn’t giving up, but deep down I was still wrestling—holding on and letting go at the same time. And yet, even in the tension, I continued to trust. I still believe the Lord has my back. I still believe He has ordered my steps, even when the path hasn’t made sense to me.
What I’ve learned is this: time reveals what shock cannot.
What once felt like pure loss has unfolded into something more honest and more stretching. A stripping. A rebuilding. A quiet reckoning with who I am when the structures I leaned on are no longer there. I’ve had to meet myself in unfamiliar places—uncertainty, faith, exhaustion, resilience. Not the kind of resilience that looks impressive, but the kind that simply keeps showing up.
This year has asked me to redefine strength. To understand that survival is not just endurance. It is also softness. Rest. Truth-telling. And the courage to begin again without guarantees.
Even now, in this present interruption, I’m reminded that life doesn’t always interrupt us to punish us. Sometimes it interrupts us to redirect us—to bring us back into our bodies, our breath, our truth, and what actually matters.
I am still becoming.
Still learning how to stand after being set back.
Still learning that healing isn’t linear, and growth doesn’t always announce itself loudly.
This blog is part of that process. A place where I write what life is teaching me in real time—while things are still unfolding. Not after I’ve figured it all out. But right here, in the middle.
If these words resonate with you—if you’re also navigating change, rebuilding, or learning how to live inside the in-between—I share more reflections like this through my Substack.
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Thank you for being here.
Thank you for reading.
Thank you for witnessing the becoming.
Prayer
Lord, we thank You for meeting us in the pauses we didn’t plan for and the seasons we didn’t choose. When our faith feels stretched and our hearts feel tired, remind us that even in the tug of war, You never let go. We trust that You are ordering our steps, even when the path is unclear and the timing doesn’t make sense. Teach us to rest without guilt, to listen without rushing, and to move forward with courage, humility, and grace. We place what was, what is, and what is still becoming into Your hands. Amen.
With care and intention,
Fatama MD | Mindful Ease Studio
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